Why try? We all ask ourselves that question at some point during the day, the month, the life, don’t we?

Last night, I worked a new room for me called Shane on Main Street in Santa Monica. I thought I had been booked. I was booked, but it was one of those rooms where they keep putting people on in front of you and pushing you further back and back in the line-up. Patrick, the guy running the room kept walking by me, holding up two fingers and saying, “two more, then you.” This feels something like sitting in an airport waiting to board a flight that’s delayed. The time on the screen is giving you a glimmer of hope that it’s only a half hour wait, but then it’s another half hour and another and another and now you’re weary and angry and it’s time to re-shave your armpits.

That’s what happened last night. I got there at 8:00. I went up at 11:00. I became very close to the bartender, Scotty who fixed me a take-home meal. I brought it out to my car and discovered a parking ticket. The meters go until 10:00 pm in the evil empire of Santa Monica. I walked solemnly defeated back into the bar, prepared to tell Patrick that he had won. I was giving up and going home.

Please know that I am not generally this easily beaten down but I had spent the day driving to Palm Springs for a funeral. My cousin-in-law’s father, Monty Berman had passed away and although I did not know this man, I watched my cousin, Trish’s husband Lee Jay deliver an incredibly moving eulogy which ended in these words… “I am and always will be Monty Berman’s son.” That had me sobbing.

Now, driving to Palm Springs and back…? I can’t recommend it. First of all, it’s a long ass drive on the 10. Second… when you get there, you’re in Palm Springs and frankly… yuck. Driving back is another long ass drive on the 10 but the good news is that you are out of Palm Springs.

So, I didn’t really feel like doing stand-up last night and yes, I did almost tell Patrick that I was leaving. But then I saw Bob Oshack at the bar and you really can’t look at that guy without smiling and, OK… he had pictures of his kids. A 3 ½ year old daughter and a brand new baby boy. Life does not get any cuter and so I stayed for his set and then I was next. Naturally, by this point there were only ten people remaining in the audience and the three in the back were solidly involved in a loud conversation but I may have actually won them over because the one who told me his name was Bill laughed when I called his girlfriend Hillary. (yeah, that’s how funny I can get)

Thanks for reading this far. I feel much better. I have to go pay a parking ticket.